


Get-Together

by MsCFH



Series: Corporate AU [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCFH/pseuds/MsCFH
Summary: get-together [noun]get-to·geth·er | \ ˈget-tə-ˌge-t͟hərDefnition: an informal meeting or social occasion, often arranged for a particular purposeorThe five times Sansa and Margaery attempted to go on a first date and the one time they did.





	1. I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt from CaptainOfTheKryptonSpacemarines, who wanted to see a first date scenario.  
> I hope you don't mind the slightly twist to this approach.
> 
> I ask you to treat kindly here, as I'm afraid after "Kind Regards" this might be a bit of a let down? I had a bit of a harder time finding Sansa's POV in this realm and perhaps this shows on certain points.  
> Once again not beta'd so I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> ETA: 20.12.19 Now updated to beta'd version. :)

**Margaery Tyrell, 17:30**  
Subtle. Leaving your number on my desk.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:33**  
I thought it was about time that we stopped spamming each other’s inboxes.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:40**  
Very efficient of you.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:46**  
I do try.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:48**  
Which makes me even more sorry for what I’m about to tell you.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:48**  
Then don’t.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:48**  
I can’t go out with you tonight.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:49**  
Do you care to offer an explanation with that?

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:51**  
You think I owe you one after you didn’t even wait for me to answer before you strode off?

 **Sansa Stark, 17:53**  
Yes, kind of.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:54**  
It’s not that I don’t want to.  
The delegation from Vhaes Dothrak came in tonight instead of tomorrow. Grandmother demanded I’d keep them entertained tonight, so they’ll be hand-tame for tomorrow.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:54**  
You mean take them drinking and flirt with them?  
I don’t exactly see how you thought you’re making a case here.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:56**  
You caught me. Drunken businessmen from Essos are my secret weakness.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:57**  
And here I thought I knew what poorly timed sarcasm was.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:58**  
I could meet you afterwards?

 **Sansa Stark, 18:00**  
My plane leaves at 5:15 tomorrow morning.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 18:01**  
You could tag along?  
It’ll be dinner, drinks. Not that much different from what you had planned (I assume).

 **Sansa Stark, 18:04**  
Except for the drunken Dothraki business men.  
I’m also set on what I said. Business and private life go separately.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 18:08**  
Ah. The rule I was never consulted about in the first place.

 **Sansa Stark, 18:10**  
Have a successful night. I’ll talk to you soon about that rain-check.

 ...

“Seven Hells, yes!”

Sansa tied her bathrobe with a loose knot, already on her feet, even when her eyes were not focused enough yet to see properly. The knocking on the door seemed only to become more insistent with her sign of being awake. On her way to it, she caught a look at the newscast she’d fallen asleep to and which displayed the time.

00:34

She was ready to murder whomever had the sheer stupidity to raise this kind of alarm in the middle of the night--

\--well, whomever besides _perhaps_ the gorgeous brunette that leaned in the frame as she drew the door open. But even that was a close call.

Sansa drew a hand through her hair and exhaled heavily at the sight of her in a tight red pants, a loose white blouse.

 _This_ was how she’d gone to a business meeting?

“Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?”

“Can I come in?”

Sansa glared at her for a long moment. “I told you, I have an early flight.”

That damn charming smile did not even weaken. “That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t think it would be the best idea.”

Sansa’s eyes landed on the bottle of champagne she held in her hand. It was just about the worst idea, and that she actually considered it only added to the anger that was still very palpable in her chest.

“So you are upset.”

Was she kidding? Of course she was bloody upset. Even before she’d banged on the door until she’d woken up. First she’d childishly ignored any attempts to contact her for a whole week, leading her to fly down here in a grand gesture and all, forcing her to re-arrange an already tight calendar, all to only cancel on her eventually. She didn’t just do that for anyone. Certainly not to be stood up after a good hour of getting ready, thirty minutes before having to pick her up.

Had she been more awake she would have perhaps seen the flaws in her reasoning there, but she had been mad going to sleep and being woken, in the middle of the night, in what she was pretty sure had been a REM phase, did not help that along. She didn’t do particularly well with little amounts of sleep. Was already certain that this two minutes of being awake would leave her a moody and groggy mess tomorrow.

“I was upset when you cancelled,” Sansa conceded eventually. “Being woken thereafter in the middle of the night brings me a whole lot closer to fury.”

A lazy smile appeared on Margaery’s face as she held her gaze without blinking.

“Being stood up sucks doesn’t it?”

Sansa’s fingers tightened around the door knob as she drew in a big breath of air. “So that’s what this is about? That I-“

Margaery’s hand landing on her upper arm silenced her as she gently interjected. “It isn’t. I just hated the idea of you leaving while upset with me.”

That softened the tough exterior that Sansa had held up so rigorously the tiniest bit.

“One night cap for atonement?” Margaery pleaded. “Then I’ll happily leave you to all the beauty sleep you want.”

She was not entirely sober, Sansa had spotted that much when she’d opened the door. Perhaps not right out drunk, but certainly tipsy; slightly glassy eyes gave her away, that smile that was a little too bold for how unfamiliar they still where with each other.

Still, despite her better judgment, Sansa took a step aside and Margaery went past her so fast, as if she was worried she’d change her mind in a moment’s notice. She stopped at the large window front, giving her a sweet smile over her shoulder.

“Nice view,” she noted. “Or so I’d assume.”

The hotel room overlooked the waterfront. She’d spent the majority of the day at the large table on the balcony, enjoying the sun while getting some work done at the same time.

“It is,” she acknowledged as she closed the door behind her and took a few tentative steps into the room, her arms still crossed as she looked at her. “So, how did your meeting go?”

“I thought we had agreed on no business talk?” Margaery teased, setting the bottle down on the couch table. “Do you have glasses?”

“I was set on not mixing business and private matters,” Sansa clarified while reluctantly walking to the minibar where she’d seen champagne flutes earlier. “I’d assume we’d run out of topics fairly soon if business talk was off limits.”

Margaery pursed her lips for a moment before she answered the original question. “I’d consider it successful. But Grandmother warned me not to be too optimistic.” She looked to recall the exact words as she tore on the plastic on the bottle head. “They’ll treat you like an equal until you refuse to bend over for them, were her words I believe?”

Placing the two glasses on the table, Sansa sunk into an armchair. That did align with her own experience. “Yes, that just about describes my encounter in Essos. I was there with Robb last year and can I say that I was never so glad to have him by my side.”

“That bad?” Margaery shot her a genuinely concerned look.

Sansa shook her head. “There is hardly anything sexistic that has not been thrown at my head by any northern CEOs and directors. Though I suppose the translator watered down the worst of their lewdness.”

The cork came from the bottle with a soft plop and landed smoothly between slender fingers. Margaery poured them both about two fingers into the ready glasses and handed one to Sansa after sinking into the second armchair.

“What kind of collaboration are you looking for there anyway?” Sansa wondered.

“Now that our deal is more or less in dry towels, we are looking to put out feelers further east.”

“Daring,” Sansa noted with raised eyebrows and meant it. Then again, this was the woman who’d struck a deal with the impregnable North. “You shouldn’t get too self-assured though.”

Margaery only smirked that bloody lopsided smirk.  “And where’s the fun in that?”

Sansa leaned further back with a shake of her head. “I don’t get this obsession with expanding further and further in as little time as possible. A stable natural growth is a far more successful approach than the desperate need to open branch after branch.”

She realized that she had taken it a bit too far perhaps, had hit a bit too close to home when Margaery tilted her head and blinked with a slight frown. “Did you just subtly insult our way of operating?”

The serious scorn of her tone, that sounded like she’d just insulted her Grandmother personally, amused Sansa enough to bring the first small smile since she’d cancelled on her earlier.

“I don’t think I was being very subtle.”

Her tone held enough teasing, to soften the strict look Margaery eyed her with.

A second later a glass was held up in her direction.

“I’m sorry,” Margaery said smoothly. “For standing you up tonight. Sincerely so.”

Sansa’s eyes flashed at her as she brought her own glass up and carefully tipped it against Margaery’s.

“You’re not forgiven for that yet,” she warned. “If anything, waking me in the middle of the night does not exactly tip the scale in your favour.”

“I’m confident I’ll manage to have you forgive me at last.” Margaery did not leave her out of her sight as she took a first almost languid sip.

Sansa placed her glass on the table without ever drinking from it. “I’m sure we can think of ways you can make it up to me.” Deliberately slowly, she crossed her legs then and leaned back.

Eyes were very evidently on the newly exposed skin of her legs as Margaery tried to conceal a smile by keeping the lowered glass to her lips. “Anything particular on your mind?”

“You tell me,” Sansa said with a soft smile. “You’re the one who booty called me.”

Soft brown eyes were firmly on her own suddenly. “This is not a booty call.”

She was a good liar. Did not blink, did not falter in her words or tone.

Sansa was not a good liar, never had been, but she was great at reading people. Attentive to details.

Such as the two buttons on Margaery’s blouse that were undone, the freshness of the lipstick that had been just applied, the way her hair was styled as if to look it had merely been pulled out of the updo she’d worn, the soft scent of just stepping out of a shower, that had enwrapped her from the moment Margaery had stepped a foot inside this room.

Plus, well, she was here at half past twelve at night – in her hotel room.

“That’s a shame,” Sansa said then, reaching for her glass and emptying it at a gulp, setting the empty glass back down. “In that case it is perhaps best to call it a night? You’ll understand that staying up for small talk and warm champagne is not all that appealing. No matter how pleasant the company.” Alert eyes followed her as she uncrossed her legs and got to her feet, leaning a hand on top of the mini bar. “I really do have an early flight to catch.”

For a good two, three seconds Margaery stared at her. Maybe considering if she was _fucking_ serious, or maybe if she could allow herself being called out like that. Finally with a shake of her head she too stood up, drinking what was left in her glass and taking a slow step towards her with an gentle smile.

“So you said, and I really don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary.”

Sansa blinked at her calmly, her own expression not at all matching the uproar in her chest. What the hell? Either she was bluffing the hell out of this situation or Sansa had indeed read it wrong?

It was fair to say that neither scenario sat very well with her, and for the very same reason. - She did not want her to leave, not in the slightest.

Even less though when Margaery came another step closer, looked at her, too polite, too distant, as she placed a soft kiss against her cheek. She did not pull away too far, looking at her with bloody perfect doe eyes.

“Thanks for having me Sansa,” she spoke quietly. “Text me about when we can have that date?”

She was bluffing, excruciatingly perfect, but bluffing nonetheless.  And Sansa would be damned if she would give in.

“Absolutely,” she returned instead with a frozen smile. “The contracts should not take much longer than two more weeks, so that should give us an opportunity.”

Only she did not want to wait two weeks. Seven hells, she didn’t want wait two more minutes. She wanted her now.

It was mere idiocracy that had this longing outweigh by the almost equally strong and unopposable need to be right. To have Margaery admit that she had not come out of any courtesy, one in which she felt she needed to make amends. In that first night they’d spend together she’d more or less thrown herself at Margaery, had done so again in showing up in Highgarden today, asking her out.

For once, it was her turn.

She really thought she deserved a bloody medal for tearing herself away from Margaery’s eyes in that moment, from her proximity and walking over to the door. With an expectant look flung in Margaery’s direction she pulled it open.

Daring her in the simple gesture to proof who had the longer breath here.

Her irritation reached new heights when Margaery still did not waver in her perfectly content smile and walked towards the door, with perhaps a bit more sway in her hips than usual. As she reached her level her steps only slowed down insignificantly, halted for only a brief moment, for the length of her breathed “Good night Sansa.” and then she was gone, leaving Sansa to close the door behind her and exhale a breath she’d been holding.

What the fuck had just happened there?

Had they both just turned down sex - sex that would have unquestionably been incredible - for the sake of being right?

Chiding herself an idiot, because she still did not find it in herself to do what she should have done, tear open the door, catch up with her and make memory of their first night together by pushing her up against the wall of the corridor, Sansa walked back into the room instead and poured herself a glass from the ridiculously expensive champagne Margaery had brought along. She downed the whole glass in one sip.

Gods. It was completely insane how frustrated, how hot and bothered, this woman could leave her with barely touching her at all – only by defying her. And she was sure that frustration would grow absolutely unbearable should she really wait two weeks before seeing her again.

Perhaps she’d come up with a reason to come back sooner, perhaps one that would bring Margaery North?

She had the signed pre-contracts in her brief case, maybe she’d forget—

Was she completely insane?

She spun around, rushed back to the door, the knob turning in her hand simultaneously as a knock sounded against the door while she already pulled it open.

Margaery stared at her, fist still up in the air, in pure bewilderment that lasted the good length of a heartbeat before she took a step towards her and her lips were _finally_ on her own again.

In a familiar pattern they tumbled backwards into the hotel room, lips moving against each other, opening impatiently to deepen the kiss.

Without letting up for a moment Margaery’s hands were on the belt of her bathrobe, pulling and tearing on it until it fell open and she could brush it off her shoulders, leaving Sansa only in the thin silken slip she’d brought for an occasion, for the purpose of exactly this. Hands fisted into the material as she walked her towards the soft mattress that one moment hit the back of her knees, and was beneath her a second after.

Margaery crawled on top of her, hands already working on pushing the slip higher, revealing her lack of underwear under it, and in the process her lips left her for just long enough so Sansa could catch a clear thought and her hands reached out covering Margaery’s, stopping heir movement.

“Say it,” she demanded through a laboured breath.

Margaery looked at her with the perfect mixture of innocent incomprehension and aroused intrigue. Not bothered by her wrist encased by Sansa she landed flash on top of her, pressing a thigh right _against_ Sansa. “Say what?” She husked into her ear, teeth catching her earlobe in a soft nibble.

It was nearly enough to have Sansa forget all about this ridiculous struggle, but just almost.

Any other time a gorgeous woman rocking against her like Margaery was, leaving soft kisses against the skin of her neck, would have maybe left her a weak-willed mess… with Margaery Tyrell, the Gods help her, she could not imagine a greater turn on than having all of that _after_ winning this argument.

Her legs flexed around her, making the most out of the slight physical advantage she had on her, and she flipped them around so rapidly that they were only a good half inch away from rolling off the bed altogether.

“Say it,” she demanded, looking down into darkened eyes.

She could feel Margaery’s chest brushing against her own in every heavy breath she took, her wrist twisting unsuccessfully against where Sansa’s hand had captured them next to her head.

“It was a booty call,” she bit out at last, and her head shot up from the pillow, kissing Sansa’s smirking lips so eagerly as if she needed to erase the taste the words had left in her mouth.

Tongues slid against one another and Margaery’s freshly released hands came to her ass, pulling her back against a bent thigh. She gasped into Margaery’s mouth, while she urged herself right against her, dragging an impossibly wet pussy right against what where undoubtedly expensive pants, all while Margaery kept kissing her with a passion that should let her forget that she’d ever prooved her wrong in the first place. And almost succeeded in doing so.

Sansa rocked against her with fervour, spurred not only by the tension between them that would finally find release, but likewise by this sheer unbelievable longing for her that had built up for far too long now; in too many nights where she had not gotten her out of her head, where she’d composed and thereafter deleted countless messages to her, where she’d been too frustrated to even touch herself afterwards.

Now, being back in her arms, it was better than she’d even remembered it. Her skin was softer, her kisses fiercer and her breath hotter against her skin.

Only for the lack of air, for the need to solely concentrate on movements that grew faster and faster, brought her down against Margaery harder each time, she finally broke away from her lips, panting against her lips instead, rewarded with eyes that looked up at her with something that came close to… tranquillity?

Only the hands that tightened against her ass cheeks did not quite fit that picture, nor did the way she urged her down against her thigh.

“I may be the one who booty called you,” lips slipped to the side of her face, hot breath tickling her ear. “But you are the one who’s humping me, fully dressed, like a bitch in heat.”

The realization that she was very much right, that she was rubbing up against her so eagerly, she had not even given Margaery a chance to undress, the knowledge how far this woman had made _her_ , the ever so in control and pulled together Sansa Stark, completely lose herself and everything she considered important… she was sure she had not been able to come harder if Margaery had been knuckle deep inside her.

Her moan was muffled against Margaery’s shoulder, she felt hands drawing through her hair, a leg wrapping around her hips, pulling her tight, lips softly landing on her cheek, all while her world was still spinning.

“This will be bloody exhausting, won’t it?” She spoke against soft skin, only then pushing herself up enough to look at her.

Eyes sparkled up at her, a soft blush on rosy cheeks. “Gods, I do hope so.”

...

 **From:** Sansa Stark [sansa.stark@starkinc.com]  
 **Sent:** Tuesday, June 25th, 2018 07:22  
 **To:** Mya Stone [mya.stone@starkinc.com]  
 **Subject:** Flight

Mya,  
I have missed my flight this morning.  
Please see if you can book me onto the one at 1700 tonight.

Sincerely,

Sansa Stark  
 **Deputy Managing Director** **  
Stark Incorporated**


	2. II.

**Margaery Tyrell, 08:54**  
So is Baelish an idiot or an evil genius?

 **Sansa Stark, 09:22**  
In his perception or anybody else’s?

 **Margaery Tyrell, 09:25**  
Doesn’t matter really. But please have a look at those contract drafts that went out today.

 **Sansa Stark, 09:22**  
What are you looking at those for?

 **Margaery Tyrell, 09:24**  
Tarly asked me to. He was confused – granted he usually is – about some of the details regarding the shared profit margin.

 **Sansa Stark, 10:05**  
I don’t understand why. Everything is as far as it should be from what I can see.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 10:08**  
I can’t recall agreeing on that percentage.

 **Sansa Stark, 10:12**  
You did. It was part of our very first negotiation, part of our request of going into the merge in the first place.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 10:13**  
No it wasn’t.

 **Sansa Stark, 10:14**  
Yes, it was. Perhaps not outright written down like that, but agreed verbally.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 10:15**  
You’re not seriously trying to pull that. That’s cold.

 **Sansa Stark, 10:16**  
I think we’re done discussing this.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 10:17**  
I don’t think we are.  
This is not what we agreed in the WebEx.

 **Sansa Stark, 10:18**  
I’ll be happy to discuss any further details with your  grandmother or Tarly.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 10:19**  
Wow. Are you serious?

 **Sansa Stark, 10:26**  
I was not kidding when I asked to keep private and business separate.  
Honestly, if that’s a problem for you, perhaps you should consider not coming up here tomorrow.

…

The webcam on the other end sprung to live giving her a view of Margaery sitting on her desk.

“So you’re really not coming?” Sansa asked without a greeting.

“Looks, like it,” Margaery’s eyes seemed focused on something else, she heard clicking sounds that suggested she was still working on something.

“Is this about yesterday?”

That caused Margaery to look towards the screen that held the webcam, shaped eyebrows shooting up. “Do you really take me this petty?”

Sansa shrugged, her fist twisting around the pen in her hand. “You were petty enough not to text back for a whole day.”

With a slow shake of her head Margaery leaned back. “I was upset with you. With your business decision and demeanour. But despite what you may think that is something I can very well keep apart from our private plans.”

Looking away from the screen, Sansa started scribbling on a open notebook next to her. “But you’re still cancelling on me?” She looked up then. “Again.”

It had been their second attempt of a date. Margaery was supposed to fly out tonight and stay for the weekend. Only she was cancelling on her, yet again. It should not have affected her this bad, not left her this petty, but damn it, it scratched on her ego. Women did not stand her up, if anything—

“My flight was cancelled,” Margaery shared then, a detail she had not mentioned in her very short spoken text message.

“It was?”

Exasperated eyes looked at her with the hint of a smile. “You should really consider opening a news page, perhaps once during your day. All flights from the Reach were cancelled for the next twenty four hours. We are in the middle of a major monsoon. I’ll be lucky if I make it home tonight, most roads are closed already.”

 “Oh.”

Margaery rolled her eyes at her. “Gee, you really don’t have the highest opinion of my reliability do you?”

Apparently not.

“You did not text me back,” Sansa told her then. “And then the next message I get is that you’re not coming. What was I supposed to think?”

Margaery leaned back in her large leather chair, hands folding over her stomach. “Can I say something?”

Sansa held her gaze, as much as that was possible through a video chat and nodded.

“You never asked me, or if it was okay for me.”

Blue eyes blinked in incomprehension. “What exactly?”

“If it was okay for me to be drawn off the project, a project that I brought along in the first place, that would have never existed without me.”

No, she hadn’t. Because it was not a point of negotiation. Pursuing a business relationship while at the same time attempting to build a personal one, was not only a bad idea, it had the potential to ruin everything before it even started. At this moment it looked like it did, before anything had officially started, in both regards.

“I told you my reasons for that,” Sansa shot back, sharper than necessary, challenge in her voice. “Which you seemed to understand, last time I checked.”

“I do.”

Sansa had picked up her scribbling again, so fiercely that her pen almost ripped through the page. “Then what’s the problem?”

Margaery leaned forward then, resting her chin on her hand, something slightly hostile in her eyes. “You know for someone who asked my consent before kissing me for the first time, you are pretty slow to understand where I’m going with this.”

“Then get to the point.”

“I poured my heart into the merge with Stark Inc., for weeks nothing else kept me busy for the majority of the day and you made the decision to take that from me, just assuming that I’d give all that up in order to be able to go out with you.”

It dawned on Sansa finally, what she meant. What had left this sour expression on her face. She had made the presumption that pursuing their private relationship was more important to Margaery, than her involvement in any further business decision.

In that moment Sansa was taken aback by her own presumption, by her own arrogance. It was true, she had done that, and had not even considered the possibility that Margaery could not want her. That it had been nothing more than a one-night-stand.

As much as the idea of that possibility did not seem to fit any interaction they’d shared… Still putting herself in Margaery’s shoes… she ripped apart with her bare hands whomever interfered with any of her business matters in that way.

In a way it was ironic that in her attempt to keep a clear line, she’d overstepped that in the very same moment.

Her voice was very cautious when she spoke the concern that loomed in the back of her mind, with the revelation of Margaery’s trouble with it. “Because you’d consider business more important?”

A conciliating smile appeared on the monitor. “You are usually a lot sharper than that.”

Sansa’s shoulders straightened. “Please answer the question.”

“I do feel offended that you have to ask that.” Chiding brown eyes looked at her. “No, of course not. This is not what this is about.”

Now she finally understood what the purpose of bringing this up had been. It was never about wanting to change her mind, or even making a decision that felt inevitable.

“I should have considered your consent in the matter,” the words were more a thought spoken out loud, before she made a pregnant pause, licked her lips as if they would come any smoother off her lips then. “I’m sorry.”

Margaery’s head tilted to the side, and a soft, adoring smile spread over her lips.

“You don’t apologize very often, do you?”

Sansa breathed and offered a small smile, leaning her head down onto her open hands. “I usually don’t have a reason to do so more than perhaps once in a period of six months, and I try to limit myself to that.”

She looked a whole lot more relaxed as she leaned back in her office chair, fingers closed around a mug. “I’m glad to be on the receiving end of it then. Thank you.”

“Of all the things I let you be at the receiving end of, this is what you thank me for.”

A melodic laugh came through the speakers and caused Sansa to smile as well. “Have I not been polite enough for your liking?”

With a shrug, Sansa leaned back. “I’ve always found sincere gratitude a great motivator.”

The sip she was taking from her coffee cup did only very little to hide a dangerously amused smirk, then eyebrows drew up once she’d enwrapped it between her hands holding towards her chest. “I could thank you in vast detail about all the things you’ve _done_ for me, but I don’t think that be entirely fair to either of us. Thousands of miles apart and everything.”

She considered disagreeing, considered the thrill it would bring to let this conversation go its course, could feel a pull between her legs just imaging where this could lead them… only the frustration of not actually being able to touch her through any of what might occur, the frustration of not seeing her tonight after it being the only thing that she had worked towards in an entirely too lousy week…. She was fairly certain that might be enough to smash the monitor against the wall.

“Talking about fair,” she opened, going back to a topic that would surely serve to smother that spark between them, “we did agree on the percentage as it is stated in the contract.”

The initial defiance in Margaery’s posture did not last very long, was quickly replaced with all too thoughtful eyes that studied her through the webcam. At last she shook her head with finality.

“You were right. It is not the best idea for us to discuss this.”

Already bracing herself for an argument Sansa’s stance softened the tiniest bit at the words. “Perhaps it is, if you really think that I tried to use your handover to Tarly for any foul moves.”

Soft eyes took her in in silence once again.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Sansa could tell that this was not the truth. Understood that it had to almost physically hurt her to say this. And, she’d be damned if she couldn’t understand it so very well. They both lived and breathed for their job, for success in their job, it was what they were born to do, and what defined both of them so very much.

Even if Margaery was taking the high road tonight, no matter how much she was determined to do so moving along, this had potential to pop up again and again in the future. Margaery staying back from it was not the solution here.

“I’ll withdraw from the merge.”

Sansa spoke the words as soon as the thought entered her mind, and hearing them out loud, seeing eyes soften with surprise, made her sure that she was doing the absolute right thing. If she wanted to pursue what she had going on with this absolutely gorgeous woman, who managed to frustrate her like no one before in her life, this could not stand between them any longer.

“You want to break off the deal altogether?” A head shook fanatically. “Sansa that’s not what—”

“That’s not what I said or meant,” Sansa interrupted her, before she could jump to any more conclusions.

Lips that were still open in protest closed, and she waited as patiently as to be expected for more of an explanation.

“I’ll take myself out of any further negotiations as well. It’s only fair.”

Once again, triggered by the broad smile that appeared on Margaery’s face, Sansa understood just how much she was doing the right thing here. Making this decision became so much more rewarding, just because Margaery understood exactly how much of a sacrifice it was.

“Are you sure about that?”

She was actually surprised by how much she was.

What attracted her so very much to Margaery, as little as she actually knew her, was that distinct feeling of having found her match, someone who’d keep her on her toes, who could hold up with her pace, her thinking, her stubbornness. But for that to work, for that not to lose its meaning, they’d have to move forward as equals.

“I am,” she reaffirmed.  “We have good and talented people working for us. And in the end, it’s only business.”

Again, eyes that should not seem so bloody intense through a webcam looked at her long and thorough.

“Only business, huh?” Margaery grinned. “How painful is it for you to say that?”

“I might have just thrown up in my mouth a little bit.”

Margaery chuckled. “I get it. I imagine this is what it feels like to hand off your first born to a stranger. Hoping they’ll raise them right.”

That particular comparison hit the nail on the head. This project, this merge, was _their_ _baby_ of sorts. Handing it off to someone else, trusting anybody to not mess up what they had achieved so far…

“We are young,” Sansa said eventually. “There will be more children for us to raise.”

Quirking her eyebrows Margaery bit her lip, looked at her through batted lashes. “Let’s make it on an actual first date, before we talk quite such big analogies, what do you think?”

Glad for Margaery’s playful tone, glad that she seemed set on making it to another date, Sansa took the no longer steaming cup from her desk between her hands. “We could have a tea right now?”

“I’ll settle on coffee if you don’t mind.”

“At six o’clock at night?”

Brown eyes blinked in a frown. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s that supposed to mean.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for coffee?” She only caught on, after she’d spoken the words, after a alluring smile was already send her way.

“Again. I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.”

Sansa rolled her eyes while sipping on her all too cold tea. “You’re not one of those caffeine junkies, are you?”

Margaery accented a long sip with a hum and kept on smiling. “I might have my standard two to thirteen cups a day.”

Sansa did not like coffee, not the taste, not the effect it had on her, not the smell. There was a coffee roastery not far from the warehouses of their company building and when the winds stood wrong the smell came right into her office and never failed to make her sick to her stomach. That Margaery seemed to be addicted… well it should not have been a surprise, really.

“And on which number are you right now?”

“Only the third. I paced myself today,” Margaery declared. “I’m afraid I’m looking at a long night here.”

“What are you still doing there anyway?” Sansa asked. “Shouldn’t you sit out the storm in the comfort of your own home?”

Margaery grimaced. “Frankly, I’m afraid I might have missed my chance to get out of here on time?”

Sansa frowned, not liking the sound of that at all. “Is that safe?”

“Are you worried?” Margaery smiled into her cup.

Well, yes? The Tyrell headquarters where right by the waterfront, fairly open and unprotected to whatever the elements would throw at it. And she had talked about a monsoon. About flights being cancelled, streets closed off.

“You just told me that you are stuck there,” she reminded her.

“I am a lot of nights.”

 _That_ was a whole other topic, one she would address sooner or later. She’d caught that a couple of times in the last week, Margaery still being in the office at ungodly hours. Replying to emails later than ten at night, on weekends as well… not that Sansa did not have enough work to keep her busy through a month without ever leaving the headquarters, but she was very set on remaining a work-life-balance as much as feasible.

But besides that she also could not stand the thought of being alone in such a large building all by herself on any normal day or night? To imagine Margaery being there in the middle of a storm? It seemed like a place right out of a horror movie. No, that did not sit right with her at all, no matter how much she smiled and teased her about it.

“Is there anyone there with you?”

“You _are_ worried.”

Sansa pursed her lips, unsure who was dodging the question here. Any other day she absolutely rejoiced that gentle banter and teasing between them, but not right now.

“Aren’t you scared?”

Margaery had slipped her shoes off and tugged beneath herself on her chair. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a coward.”

 _Damn_ her.

“I’m not.”

“Care to explain to me what exactly I’m supposed to be scared of?”

The smart thing would have been to accept Margaery’s astonishing calmness, admire it really, because what did she really try to achieve here? Trying to get her to panic?

“It’s a bloody monsoon,” she exclaimed. “What if a tree crashes through the window?”

Even as the words left her she recognized just how lame they sounded.

“On the 16th floor?”

“You don’t know how long you might be stuck there?”

“That is nothing if not a regular business day,” Margaery chuckled.

“You are obstinate clearly,” Sansa surrendered then with a shake of her head, giving into the realization that everything she said, or suggested would just be thrown back at her in a mocking manner.

“I do appreciate the concern, darling,” Margaery allowed then. “But honestly the only thing that is slightly scary is the prospect of leaving here unwashed and in rumpled clothes like I’m on walk of shame.”

Good to know she had her priorities in order.

“Really, the worst thing that could happen here—”

Sansa sat stone cold still as abruptly the softly smiling woman disappeared from her screen and her call app suggested that the line had broken off. Movement returned to her right thereafter and she clicked on the screen trying to reconnect the call, only to be on the receiving end of a failure message three times in a row.

Before she could even tell her mind not to jump to conclusions, her smart phone came alive in her purse, and she exhaled a breath she had not realised she’d been holding at the incoming video call from Margaery.

“You were saying?” She answered dryly, looking at a face only illuminated by the phone screen.

“The fucking power went out,” Margaery breathed, annoyed as she ran a hand through her hair, the shaking off the screen suggested that Margaery walked around with the phone in her hand.

“You are not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her tone was harsher than usual.

The angle she saw Margaery in suggested that she had put the phone on the desk and additional blue light of a screen suggested that she’d opened her laptop, eyes scanning the screen nearly with panic.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

Margaery went out of frame as she sank back on her chair, giving Sansa only the vague image of a light illuminating a dark room.

“What is it?” Sansa inquired again.

Margaery appeared back in on the screen, her head supported by a hand on her forehead, as eyes were still focused on the computer screen in front of her.

“The calculation I’ve been working on, it’s gone. It was supposed to be on here, but it isn’t.”

“You didn’t save it?”

“Obviously I didn’t!”

Sansa tried to put off the still very harsh tone to the adrenaline she for sure was under of suddenly finding herself in the dark and of losing her file.

“Did you try document recovery?”

If sharp eyes that looked at her where any indication, that was not the right thing to say.

“Of course. It was the fucking first thing I checked.”

Sansa felt her jaw tighten. “You know I didn’t delete your work.”

She wanted to add, that if she’d gotten out of there on time, like a normal person would, she’d probably not be in this dilemma, but couldn’t in the wave of compassion that hit her as marginally softened eyes looked at her.

“I’m sorry,” Margaery breathed. “But you’d understand my frustration if you knew just how much I hate working with spreadsheets in the first place.”

Sansa couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face, neither the words that followed. “You know what they say. Spreadsheets are like sex. So many functions and only truly fun if you know how to use them.”

Margaery looked entirely unimpressed with the joke. “Fuck you.”

With a chuckle Sansa set the phone down on her desk. “Did I hit a nerve there?”

The light around Margaery grew darker again as she closed the laptop in front of her. “Is some compassion too much to ask?”

Because she didn’t know when to shut up and her ridicule got the better of her Sansa looked unimpressed drinking from her tea. “A minute ago you didn’t want my compassion?”

“I am on a deadline, okay? This was supposed to go out tonight.”

“Does not seem like you to wait until the last minute to finish something.”

Why it was so hard to let go of teasing her, when she was obviously upset Sansa could not quite say. Maybe she hoped that antagonizing her would do more for Margaery to keep a level head than upsetting herself further? Or simply because that back and forth was sort of fun?

Only the return never came, instead dire eyes looked at her, a face looking more tired and pale in the dim light.

“Can’t you redo it? Your laptop is still working.”

Margaery laughed humourlessly. “It’s data from six different files merged into one. And it took me half a day to assemble those using three screens, without that-“

“Send me the files,” Sansa demanded.

The dispirited features did not pick up. “You don’t have the-“

“The what?,” Sansa interrupted. “Your talent for dealing with spreadsheets?”

“I would have to talk you through it,” Margaery’s exasperation still had not vanished, albeit slightly softened. “It would take forever.”

Sansa shrugged. “Lucky for you my plans for tonight fell through.”

The first hesitant hint of a smile returned to Margaery’s face. “Are you certain?”

She was not someone who pandered up to anybody. Not in dating, not in offering sympathy, least of all for work, and yet she drew her eyebrows up at the small screen of her phone with a soft encouraging look.

“Come on now, before I change my mind.”

…

 **Margaery Tyrell, 11:03**  
Made it home safely.  
Thank you again for your help last night.  
While I want to make it clear that this doesn’t count as a date – had it been, your excellent skills would for sure have gotten you laid.


	3. III.

**Margaery Tyrell, 17:22**  
Just landed. Have you made it home yet?

 **Sansa Stark, 17:40**  
Would you mind picking me up from the office?

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:42**  
… I don’t like the sound of that?

 **Sansa Stark, 17:57**  
No reason to. Just an unexpected hold up at the office.  
We will make it to dinner tonight.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 18:00**  
Good. Because I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

 **Sansa Stark, 18:34**  
Perhaps grab a granola bar on the way.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 18:36**  
Sansa…

 **Sansa Stark, 18:37**  
Just to put you in a better mood.  
I don’t enjoy the company of grumpy women.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 18:42**  
Just be ready when I get there, will you?

 **Sansa Stark, 18:43**  
Your impatience is as usual astonishing.

…

Margaery swung into the open door of her office, looking absolutely precious. She wore a long flowy summer dress, long curls cascaded down her shoulders; a lovely smile on her lips that melted the very moment she met Sansa’s face which apparently had failed to hide her bad news.

“No.” She didn’t bother with a greeting and her shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa said, her eyes wandered over the goddess in front of her. “No one is more disappointed than me.”

Not looking a lot reconciled, Margaery dropped in the chair opposite to her and sighed. “What happened?”

Sansa gestured to her screen, as if that was the problem right there. “Our entire network has crashed and IT can’t figure out why. They are not excluding an outside attack. We’re having a crisis meeting in half an hour.”

Even though Margaery clearly could not argue with that reasoning, it was obvious that she did not like it one bit, and Sansa couldn’t blame her.

Spending this lovely warm night in an airconditioned meeting room was not what she had planned. She had gotten them a table at her favourite restaurant on the terrace, had wanted to take her for a walk through the park back to her hotel… well was she a horrible person to still hope at least for that last part, the one at the hotel? It was the only thing that did not leave her entirely discouraged.

“What if we order some take-out here?” Margaery suggested. “Arrange a little improv picnic?”

Sansa smiled at the idea, just because it was a lovely thought.

“I have no idea how long this meeting will run,” she told her, apologetic despite that. “Depending on the outcome we might even have to work out some data that Robb has been-“

A heavy sigh from Margaery interrupted her. “This is not happening tonight is it?”

“I don’t think so.”

She crossed her legs and leaned back, bobbing on the swing chair for a moment. “Perhaps the next quarter will leave us luckier.”

Sansa made a face. “Aren’t you the optimist?”

“This is our third attempt to go out for dinner,” Margaery returned with drawn up eyebrows. “And so far the only thing I’ve eaten… well, wasn’t food.”

Biting her lip in a smirk Sansa leaned forward, playing with the pen that was in front of her. “It is offending just how disappointed you sound when you say that.”

Unimpressed eyes gazed at her. “I’m not traditional per se. But sometime after the second night I appreciate sharing a dinner.”

That those bloody kissable lips formed a small pout, did not help Sansa’s resolve; neither did the way she didn’t leave her out of her sight.

She was a good twenty six minutes away from what would undoubtedly be a rather straining, nerve wrecking meeting, and what she thought she read in those eyes still on her was, seven hells, exactly what she needed before that. Exactly what would bring her through that strain of what today had been that had concluded in the massive disappointment of having her night cut short.

“Too bad that you don’t seem to have interest in your usual course.” Sansa leaned back, pushing her executive chair back just enough to reveal long legs crossing in a skirt she’d picked out precisely for today.

Margaery tilted her head, her look following along the skin of her legs before settling back on her face, a small glint in them.

“I don’t know,” she drawled then. “I usually like to take my time for … eating.”

Sansa swallowed at just how low her voice sounded, something she knew to bring into the correct context by now.

“I have twenty four minutes,” she said with a small glance at the clock at the bottom of her screen.

“You chided me the other day for having a glass of wine at my desk,” Margaery reminded her of one of her last phone conversations. “Calling it inappropriate I believe?”

Sansa wasn’t having any of it. “Do you want to talk principle, or close the door and get over here?”

For a moment, Margaery’s expression looked like she considered talking back, like it was a matter of principle indeed, but she seemed to get a hold of her stubbornness, setting her priorities straight  as she was on her feet and followed the request to close the door. Seconds later she was right in front of her, towering over her as Sansa still leaned back in her chair swirled around lazily smiling up at her, uncrossing her legs as she did.

Margaery’s dress was loose enough to allow her to straddle Sansa’s lap without much effort and she had barely settled down, her hands on either side of her head on the high backrest when her lips were already met her own in a deep kiss. Fingers dug into hips and Sansa sighed when their tongues met and moved against each other slowly.

How she’d gone once again weeks without her, without this, she didn’t know. Every time they were together, they touched and kissed, Sansa couldn’t imagine going even a day without it.

Margaery ended their first ordeal with a series of small pecks, smiling against her lips.  “Hi.”

Sansa beamed up at her, hands circling around her waist. “Hi.”

“Sorry about forgetting a proper greeting.”

Fingers twisted into curls. “Good thing you remembered your manners.”

Margaery leaned in again placing a soft kiss against Sansa’s neck, so close to the collar of Sansa’s white blouse she was almost entirely certain that this would leave traces behind on both her skin and clothes.

In a way it was frightening how very little she cared about that, after only a couple of touches; already far too caught up in the warm body that pressed against her own, hips that rocked against her, lips that sucked on her neck and teeth that kept on teasing the same spot.

Still she stopped hands that tried to ascend into her braided hair. “I don’t have time to fix that,” she said at the same time tilting her head back, offering Margaery the consolation of better access to her neck.

There was only a disjointed hum to be heard from Margaery as she reluctantly withdrew her hands and let them land on her breasts, squeezing them through the material of her blouse and bra.

Margaery rested her forehead against Sansa’s, looking her in the eye with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s adorable that you think in what I’m about to do to you your hair will be the thing giving you away.”

It was in that moment that Sansa realized her tremendous miscalculation. She wouldn’t be going into that meeting refreshed and rejoiced in body and spirit by a well-timed quickie. She’d go in there like a bloody mess.

She swallowed any words of protest in a deep kiss and then the warmth of her body was gone and Sansa was faced with the stunning image of Margaery on her knees, hands circling around calves as she pressed lips against the inside of her knee, her tongue darting out tasting the skin there. Fingers slipped up her legs, giving only the hint of an indication to spread them.

“Talk about tight skirts,” Margaery breathed once her legs had come apart at the maximum her skirt allowed, which was evidently not enough.

Margaery hauled herself up from sitting on her heels, a hand reaching to Sansa’s left and pulling on the handle that controlled the backrest of Sansa’s chair, letting her flop backwards in a sudden movement that caused her to shriek in surprise.

“Better keep it down, darling.”

Margaery smiled predatorily as hands tightened on either side of her hips. She pulled until Sansa was less sitting upright, and more her ass hanging off the seat, her hands grasping onto the chair to prevent slipping off the dark leather altogether. Hands grasped the hem of her skirt and pushed it upwards until it was bounced around her hips, revealing the black thong to darkened eyes.

“You could have just asked me to take it off,” she huffed, too distracted by fingers that drew up and down her legs to be truly upset with her.

“Time is a factor.”

A return was chocked by a moan when her legs were pulled apart and lips moved along the inside of her right leg with open mouthed kisses, stopping just when they reached the gusset of her panties, giving the skin there a gentle bite. Fingernails drew up and down her other leg while a face came so impossibly close to where she needed it most. She was almost sure that her wetness had already trespassed the barrier of her panties and that Margaery was very much able to taste it at the extent of her thighs.

“If I was a resentful person I’d leave you right here as you are.” Sansa shivered at the prospect as much as the hot breath that hit her centre. “Stop touching you right now and send you into that meeting hot and bothered, having to wait hours before you get release.”

Sansa breathed heavily, one hand leaving the hold on the chair and brushing through golden-brown curls.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she bit out, forcing her voice not to reveal how very much that thought excited and scared her.

Soft fingers drew over the waistband of her thong hooking under it. “Wouldn’t I?” Eyes feigning innocence peered up at her. “I’d be capable of a lot to make sure you return in a timely manner. You’d be surprised.”

Fingers tightened their hold in long strands of hair. “As would you. If you think I was dismissing the first time we met, you would be surprised how much of a bitch I can really be.”

“Better not take my chance then,” Margaery said with a sweet smile. “I couldn’t bear having you upset with me.”

She _heard_ the ripping sound before she was able to make sense of it, felt the band snap, her mind not catching up until Margaery had repeated the action on the other side.

She did _not_ just do that. She did not just _rip_ her underwear off her.

A hand flew from Margaery’s head to her hip finding the evidence of what she had feared.

“Are you fucking insan-“

The rest of the words and her attempt to sit up were cut short by Margaery diving forward and putting her lips against her completely soaked and already overstimulated core.

Any attempt to hold on to her anger, her absolute fury, turned out futile when lips and a talented tongue started assaulting her in the best way imaginable.

Margaery was not a very impatient lover, no matter how great her own impatience when she was being touched. More than just once in the two night they had spent together she’d left Sansa a begging mess with her slow and very calculated touches. Today she worked with a pace that was likewise maddening only that it went in the complete opposite direction. She barely allowed Sansa a moment to breathe, kept the usual exploring and teasing to an absolute minimum. Instead she focused right on her clit within seconds after her first touch and did not let up again for even a second afterward.

Sansa dug her nails into her skull, in a grip so tight that had to be unpleasant, but she could not control it anymore, more importantly could not have her risk changing her approach at this after all. She spread her legs further allowing Margaery all the access she need, as an arm came beneath her thigh, to pull her even closer against lips that drove her to absolute ecstasy.

To keep sounds that built in her chest at a bay Sansa bit her lip hard, close to drawing blood and even so she could contain the moan of release only at a somewhat acceptable volume as her lips started to flutter against Margaery’s tongue and she felt incredible pleasure flood her body in sweet release.

She fell back into her chair completely boneless, exhausted and sated in the very best way, her eyes only fluttering open slowly as Margaery’s lips left her. She was met with the sight of a smirking brunette sitting back on her heels, wiping along her lips almost elegantly.

It was exactly that lopsided smirk that reminded Sansa what had happened seconds before she lost herself in the depth of her touch and the pleasure it had triggered.

Again her hand examined her hips only to find the remains of her ripped up panties beneath her.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she breathed, infuriation in a voice that was still hoarse from coming down of an orgasm.

She would have to attend a meeting going commando – a meeting with her brother and head of all departments of the company.

It was infuriating, it was humiliating, more than anything completely inappropriate… and the Gods help her, it was the hottest thing anyone had ever done to her.

“I didn’t want to waste any time,” Margaery gave a barley affected shrug. “Your skirt is a decent length, you will survive it.”

She fished a tissue from the box on Sansa’s desk then, carefully drawing it along the inside of her thigh, cleaning the remains of her arousal off as good as feasible, her lips twitching in another smirk at Sansa’s flinch when she moved on to the sensitive flesh of her core.

“You will regret that,” Sansa vowed.

Margaery only smiled as she disposed the tissue into the waste basket, coming to her feet and leaving a slightly wrinkled dress fall around her as she held a hand out to Sansa and helped her to her feet. Gentle hands smoothed out Sansa’s skirt and at last the collar of her blouse.

“Is that a promise?”

The challenge in her tone brought a small smile on Sansa’s face and she met her lips in a brief kiss. “A bloody oath.”

She honestly didn’t think she ever had looked forward to something more than fucking that smug little smile right off her face.

“I can’t wait.”

Their silent staring match that was nearly enough to have make Sansa good of her words and thoughts right there, bending her over her desk, shoving her dress up to her hips..  and then was interrupted by a knock against the door and Robb sticking his head in.

“San, are you ready?”

Looking at her brother, was almost as good as a cold shower.

“Yes,” she said with a nod and gathered her laptop from the docking station and her writing map off the desk. “Just a second.”

“So is this the famous Margaery?”

Sansa could hardly imagine a worse time to make this introduction, but knew it was too late as Robb had already taken a couple of steps towards them.

“Yes, sorry,” she forced an appropriate smile. “Margaery this is my brother Robb Stark. Robb, this is Margaery Tyrell.”

Swiftly as if she’d not still be able to taste his little sisters cum on her lips, Margaery spun around with a alluring smile and reached for the outstretched hand.

“Very nice to finally meet you,” she greeted him, in an all too charming manner. “I can see now where Sansa gets her good look from.”

Sansa barely contained a roll of her eyes. It was not only a bad joke, it was entirely inappropriate; especially how her tone bordered on flirtatious there, it was-- it had the sole purpose of pissing her off even further. And it worked.

At her brother’s reaction she could not keep from rolling her eyes any longer. The way he almost seemed to blush, how he smiled at her so broadly. Men were so simple minded, and Margaery in particular seemed to have a talent to have men’s brains turn off in a moment’s notice.

Well, and women’s apparently, she thought as she took a step forward, painfully aware of the bareness beneath her skirt.

“Likewise a pleasure to meet you,” Robb returned, _still_ shaking her hand.

Sansa had her map and laptop pressed against her chest. “Shall we go?”

Her brother’s eyes only darted to her for a short moment as he nodded, then they landed back on Margaery. “I’m sorry that I’ll have to cut your plans with my sister short.”

Then try looking sorry, Sansa thought.

“I’ll get her back to you as soon as possible.”

“I’d very much appreciate that,” Margaery smiled.

A goading step forward towards her brother had the effect of urging him along, only once he was back out the door Sansa turned around to Margaery.

“Will you be okay to wait here?” she asked, her basic manners returning to her as her mind already focused on the meeting she was supposed to attend.

Silently, that damn smirk still in place, Margaery nodded.

“The bathroom is just down the hall to the left,” Sansa went on, her head pointing in the direction. “And the kitchen is just next to it.”

With a couple of steps Margaery walked towards her and placed a kiss against her cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep myself entertained.”

Sansa had to take a deep breath when a hand revealed the remains of her ripped up underwear in her palm.

…

 **Margaery Tyrell, 20:22**  
So your brother seems charming.

 **Sansa Stark, 20:22**  
Just wait until I get my hands on you.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 20:23**  
Can’t wait.


	4. IV.

**Sansa Stark, 15:53**  
Just to give you the heads up - reservation is made for 7:30 tomorrow.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 16:02**  
You’re worried I’ll cancel on you, aren’t you?

 **Sansa Stark, 16:14**  
Let’s call it careful reluctance in my anticipation.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:01**  
So you are in anticipation?

 **Sansa Stark, 17:13**  
Not until I’m certain you have boarded that plane.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:14**  
Missing planes is your forte if I recall correctly?

 **Sansa Stark, 17:15**  
And who’s fault was that?

 **Margaery Tyrell, 17:18**  
I’m not taking the responsibility for your lack of self-control.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:20**  
Fuck you.

 **Sansa Stark, 17:20**  
Just get yourself on that plane on time, will you?

...

“We’re getting closer to actually making it to dinner.”

Margaery threw her a completely miserable look from the passenger seat, that seemed to ask silently if that was supposed to cheer her up.

“I’m trying to look at an upside here?”

Sansa briefly looked away from the road and at Margaery, who was sunken deep into the passenger seat, a perfect picture of misery.

“You suck at comforting,” she complained.

Sansa smiled softly. “That’s just your embarrassment talking.”

When there was no answer, Sansa gave another look in her direction, followed by a couple more upon finding her eyes closed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Let me know if you want me to stop, okay?”

A silent nod and a pressed out “Stop the car.” followed only seconds later.

She had the car barely at a hold -and Sansa was still silently thanking her foresight of taking the rural road instead of the highway -where such a sudden stop would have been a lot harder- when Margaery had already ripped the door open and was out, barely making it to the crash barrier before throwing up over it.

Sansa made a face and rested back against the headrest of her seat. Everything _had_ gone too smoothly.

Initially finding a date that fitted both their calendars had been an absolute nightmare, that had taken about 542 text messages going back and forth, but finally had landed on this Friday in late July, and from there it had seemed like it would actually work out? A good hour earlier she’d picked up Margaery from the airport, her flight had been on time, she was one of the first people stepping into the arrival hall, she’d gotten her into her car all within a good five minutes after arriving at the airport.

In retrospect, yes, she had already looked a little pale then, but Sansa had put that off to tiredness, knowing that Margaery had started her day around 5am in order to finish early and to be here on time. Likewise her being quieter, not the usual back and forth they had come so accustomed to in the past weeks.

Despite it being the last thing that she actually wanted to be doing Sansa opened the door and walked over to Margaery’s side, gathering hair backwards, and running a hand over her back, as she still kept going. All while of course being careful of not having her shoes anywhere near a possible splash radius of what Margaery _produced_ there.

She noted that at least she’d gotten most of it out of her system earlier already.

Unfortunately that had happened in the lobby of her favourite restaurant, just as the hostess had been ready to bring them to their table. She’d actually never seen Margaery at more lack of composure as in that moment, so deeply horrified. Had she not looked as pale and close to fainting as she had, Sansa might have found it funny.

That amusement was gone altogether now that Margaery was dry heaving on the side of the road.

She handed her a tissue once she was confident that the worst of it was over and led her back in the car, rolling back the backrest so she could perhaps rest a bit.

It took them another fifteen minutes until Sansa stopped the car again.

“Are you okay to get up?”

Her hands still on the steering wheel, she looked over at Margaery who blinked her eyes open at her and pushed herself to her hands with a nod and irritation in her features.

“This is not my hotel.”

“No. It isn’t.” She went out of the car, took Margaery’s carry-on out of the trunk and then opened the passenger side, holding out a hand. “Come on now.”

Margaery didn’t protest the hand that came around her waist and led her inside the building. Once inside the elevator she leaned against the closest wall, eyes again shut for the remainder of the ride, leaving Sansa hyper aware of every little bump and movement the elevator made, praying that none of it would trigger a new wave of nausea while they were in here.

A palm pressed against Margaery’s lips as soon as the doors slid open and arrived inside her apartement, Sansa pushed her into her along into the guest bathroom right next to the entry.

It would have been easy to close the door just then, but despite her own reluctance, Sansa once again stepped next to her. This time she gathered her hair fixing it with a tie she had taken from the mirror cabinet, then her hands rubbed again over her shoulders and back until she’d overcome this attack as well.

Margaery dropped back against the wall into a sitting position, still a piece of toilet paper pressed to her lips. Sansa leaned on the opposite site, still standing giving her a sympathetic smile.

“You know, if you’re pregnant, I think now would be a good time to tell me.”

Margaery glared at her. “You may be good in bed, but not to that capability.”

Glad that she was well enough to make bitchy comments Sansa stretched out a hand and helped her to her feet. Once they’d arrived in her bedroom, stood in front of her bed, Sansa started tugging on the top that was tucked into high waisted pants.

“I can do that myself,” Margaery’s protest was weak, and she raised her hand simultaneously, letting Sansa pull the stained piece of clothing off her.

“I know you can but we need some efficiency before you decide that there is something left in your stomach.”

“Any excuse to undress me?”

Sansa rolled her eyes, as she tugged skinny black jeans down toned legs.

“Marg, after witnessing how you projectile vomited three times within thirty minutes just be glad that I’m still here at all.”

Pulling the first shirt she could find from her dresser she handed it to Margaery, who was -ugh- sitting in only a pair of lacy panties on top of her bed, looking the complete opposite of what she had imagined this first occasion would look like. With a sigh moved over and helped her pull the shirt over her head.

She then went through her nightstand finding what she was looking for and placing it in Margaery’s hand. “That’ll help the nausea.”

“A suppository?” Margaery made a face.

“Do you have particular great trust right now in your ability to keep pills down?”

With an exasperated look Margaery got to her feet. “I guess I should be glad that you let me do this by myself.”

Sansa threw her a only half serious look as she disappeared into the adjacent bathroom and took the chance to pull the duvet and the sheets back. For a moment there she felt a little lost as she sat down on the spot where Margaery had been sitting. Taking her back to her place, let alone her bedroom was not what she’d planned for what was still supposed to be a first date. But she just didn’t have it in herself to drop her in a hotel room, when she was this sick and miserable; told herself that she could take better care of her here.

She still mourned what tonight was supposed to be. Margaery’s flight left in the early afternoon tomorrow already, and right now Sansa considered it lucky if she actually got her back into any condition that would her allow to board the plane at all.

When Margaery emerged from the bathroom the paleness of her face was a little worse than before, probably supported by having taken off her make up. Sansa stood up and let her collapse onto her side, her legs only weakly dragging themselves up on the edge of the bed. She pulled the thin sheet over her and sat down on the edge then, brushing a strand of her behind Margaery’s ear.

“You’re doing okay there?”

“Apart from my dignity being left on the floor of that restaurant.”

“If it had only been your dignity, you left there,” Sansa quipped. “Any idea what brought this on?”

“Some people in the office had it? I’m usual not very receptive for catching any kind of bug.”

Sansa pursed her lips. “And there goes your delusion of invincibility.”

Margaery buried her face into the crook of her arm. “Don’t beat a dead horse.”

Pulling the blanket further around Margaery’s shoulders and tugging it around her, Sansa smiled softly. “How about I cook this mare some chamomile tea?”

She really should have guessed that the steaming cup she returned with not much later was a wasted effort, because of course Margaery was passed out by then, leaving her to it to put it down on the nightstand.

The first signs of consciousness returned to her some time after ten at night. Sansa had settled on the other side of the bed next to her, changed earlier into a pair of shorts and a shirt, her head supported on multiple pillows giving her a good look at the TV.

Margaery turned on her back, a hand rubbing the sleep from her eyes, before they settled on Sansa. “Hey.”

Sansa’s head turned towards her with a smile. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said after a moment of contemplating. “I think.”

As if to test it she pushed herself up onto her hands, stretching her neck and taking a deep breath, then her eyes landed on the screen. “What are you watching?”

“Tyrion Lannister.”

“He’s brilliant,” Margaery said, leaning against the headrest, pulling her knees to herself. “What’s the topic?”  

“Pro and Con of an unconditional basic income,” Sansa said, her eyes returning to the screen, where a discussion between was close to escalating, and host Tyrion Lannister, just interjected with a well-timed and worded sharp question.

Margaery’s eyes stayed on the screen as well. “Sometimes I can’t believe the time they waste on topics that are so quite obvious.”

“I know,” Sansa sighed. “In a country where we still have so many other topics to resolve, they really should not focus on utopian ideas.”

“You’re not serious,” Margaery’s head swung to her, her voice had all the sudden lost its weakness. “You’re con?”

Sansa shared the look of surprise, only if hers went in the complete different direction. And she honestly couldn’t believe her. This was not an ethical question, on no level. It was economic, and if she knew -assumed- anything about Margaery than that business came before anything.

“I am serious.”

Margaery slowly shook her head, her mouth still agape. “How can someone with your intelligence say that?”

“I can shoot that question right back at you,” Sansa returned with raised eyebrows. “The idea behind it might be good, even admirable, but also completely delusional.”

“You know there was a time when people said that about a woman’s right to vote.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “That’s apple and oranges. You can’t compare basic human rights and equality, to what frankly is a plan that would never work.”

“It is working rather successfully in Bravos,” Margaery shot back.

 “That’s a pilot project,” Sansa reminded. “One that is only tried out on a very small amount of the people.”

“I wouldn’t call 800 000 people a small a very small amount.”

“Compared to 40 million of Westeros?” Sansa shook her head. “Also I do believe that with the money they make off their banks, they are in no way comparable to our social system. Or how would you propose that basic income is funded?”

“For one the current social system would save millions, if not billions, because it would become obsolete. You would not need the vast amounts currently spent on bureaucracy to take care of unemployment and pensions, and a higher living standard for everyone would bring money back into the economy, which would then make a higher business tax feasible.”

Sansa was a little taken back by the stream of words coming her way. Not the substance of it per se – that was something she heard alone a dozen times only in the televised discussion tonight – more that Margaery spoke them as if she’d never felt sick in the first place.

“Taxing companies seems to be liberals answer for everything these days,” Sansa returned. “You know as well as I that this would kill small and medium sized businesses, hurting the economy, and at last making any effect that a basic income would have obsolete.”

The colour that had been previously lacking from Margaery’s face was now very much there. “Oh my gods, you’re a conservative.”

Sansa looked at her with drawn up eyebrows. “Yes. That’s not exactly a secret.”

She had supported Alys Karstark’s campaign last year, with a whole number of public statements and appearances. Successfully and proudly so.

“You are a gay woman, how can you look at yourself in the mirror voting for them?!”

Had it not been for the absolute resentfulness of her voice, Sansa would have found it comically how fast this conversation had seemed to heal her, how the fierceness had returned to her, after she’d barely recognized her this afternoon.

“I’m not saying that I go along with everything they stand for or say,” Sansa relented. “No political party is without fail. That goes for the liberals as well.”

“I think I’m getting sick again.”

Sansa studied her carefully. “You better be talking metaphorical, because if throw up on my sheets, it’s the last time you will ever be in them.”

A harsh look was send her way and Sansa could not help, but be a little fascinated.

“Gods, this really upsets you, doesn’t it?”

Margaery inhaled and looked ahead at the screen. “Upset is not the right word. Disappoints.”

“In me?” Sansa flipped onto her side, supporting on her head on her bend arm. “How so?”

Eyes glanced down at her with surprising hardness. “I took you for more intelligent than buying into populistic platitudes.”

With genuine intrigue Sansa blinked up at Margaery who’s face had lost all colour again, now that she had calmed a little.

Discovering that Margaery had such a vastly different view was not something she particularly liked either, but it did not discourage her as much as Margaery looked right now. But she did allow the thought that it held potential to keep things from getting boring. This rubbing against each other, arguments, it was what they did best, what – at least for Sansa – was part of what attracted her in pursuing her in the first place. What was one more point where they did not agree?

Well seemingly to Margaery it was what could make or break them.

“This right here,” Sansa said. “This is exactly the problems with you liberals.”

The way Margaery looked at her, suggested that it had been the wrong thing to say, which was exactly why it needed to be said.

“Everything is black and white,” Sansa went on. “You’re not for a basic income, means you don’t support a fair social politic. You’re not for the renewable energy act means that you are against it and want to see the world burn. You are accusing us to have a restricted world view, and perhaps a lot conservatives do, but please acknowledge that so do a lot of so-called liberals.”

Margaery’s jaw tightened. “Forgive me if I don’t see a lot of room for anything but black of white when it comes to matters of basic human rights, that the conservatives have again and again tried to undermine.”

“Typical liberal propaganda.”

With an loud exhale Margaery raised her hand indicating her to not say another word. “Do not come up with phrases like that!”

Sansa flopped onto her stomach, shaking her head. “Is it so wrong though? It’s comfortable to live in your filter bubble that feeds you only convenient to your view of the world, not allowing an ounce of controversial coverage that might upset said view.”

Margaery looked at her for a long moment then, eyes as unforgiving as Sansa had ever seen them, which… should really not have been something to add to the list of things she liked about her, but it did… dare she say it left her even a bit turned on?

That feeling vanished as fast as it had come, wiped from her conscious as Margaery threw the blanket back and sat on the edge of the bed. “I think I have inconvenienced you long enough now. I’ll take a taxi to my hotel.”

For a moment Sansa just stared at her back, as she gathered hair together into a messy bun, then Sansa pushed herself up so she was sitting on her heels. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

No answer, just a back that seemed to grow even stiffer as she got to her feet.

“Margaery,” Sansa’s sharp tone prompted her to turn around at last.

Brown eyes were not as unforgiving as before. Merely… distant.

For a moment Sansa felt an apology forming in her mind, but dismissed the thought as soon as it had come along. She had done nothing wrong here, and she wouldn’t act like it, just to get back in good graces, of which she honestly didn’t know why she’d lost them in the first place.

“I won’t apologize for what is my honest opinion,” Sansa stated firmly and added a little softer, with a tilt of her head. “But I would not expect you to either.”

A bit emotion that was not entirely negative returning to Margaery’s features. “It’s a touchy subject for me.”

“You don’t say,” Sansa remarked with a grimace. “Listen, if you’re upset, I can live with that. But it’s late, you’re still pale as a sheet, and your clothes are still in the washer… just come back to bed?”

Not disclosing whether it was Sansa’s words that prompted it, or that a few seconds on her feet had showed her how limited her own capacities still were, Margaery sat back down on the bed after only a couple more seconds of contemplation.

Sansa lost no time, slipping up behind her, her arms going around her waist as she pulled her against herself and pressed a kiss to the spot behind her ear. “I’ll say one more thing to this topic, and then we better watch a baking show or something. If you’ll let me?”

“Fine.”

“I don’t agree, let alone condone everything the conservative party does. That goes of course especially in terms of  women’s rights, equality, border policy, and a whole number of other topics. But I do believe that they are based on the right values, and that there are good and intelligent people in it. And change has to come from within rather than condoning and opposing someone as the evil ones.”

Margaery sighed as her fingers started to trail along those holding her tight, stopping her from getting even the idea to leave into her hand.

“I prefer cooking shows.”

Sansa laughed against soft hair. “Of course you do.”

…

 **Sansa Stark, 09:31**  
Just threw up into the trash can in my office. Lovely to have had you over, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hate mails about making Sansa a "conservative" go to my lawyer please.


	5. V.

**Margaery Tyrell, 13:15**  
How do you feel about a Skype date tonight? I have the dire need to end this day with a glass of wine on my balcony and I’d appreciate your company.

 **Sansa Stark, 13:16**  
That sounds lovely, but I already have plans.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 13:18**  
I hate our schedules more than I can ever tell you.  
What are you doing? Business or pleasure?

 **Sansa Stark, 13:20**  
Very much pleasure actually.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 13:25**  
Care to elaborate that?

 **Sansa Stark, 13:27**  
We’re going to this restaurant that I’ve been wanting to try out forever, and probably to a bar afterwards.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 13:40**  
That sounds fun. Hope you have a good time.

 **Sansa Stark, 13:46**  
I don’t know if I have to, or even should clarify this, but - I’m not going on a date. This is a very platonic get-together with Robb’s girlfriend/future wife.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 13:48**  
The clarification doesn’t hurt

 **Margaery Tyrell, 13:52**  
This does not feel like a conversation we should be having via text, but for the record: I’m glad.

 **Sansa Stark, 13:54**  
You’re right.  
But for the record too: I’m not dating anyone but you.

 **Sansa Stark, 13:55**  
Technically not even you.

 **Margaery Tyrell, 13:56**  
Neither am I. Or intend to.

…

The door swung open and revealed Margaery in nothing but a white terrycloth towel wrapped around her.

“You made it,” she breathed with a lovely smile and greeted Sansa with a peck to her lips, bringing her inside with a pull on her hand. “You avoided the worst of the traffic then?”

Sansa shook her head, parking her carry on next to a large wooden coatrack. “No. But I had a taxi driver who ignored that.”

She took a long and better look at Margaery, the towel that suggested she’d just stepped out of the shower did not match the rest of her appearance. Her make-up was close to finished, her hair still held up in loose curls with various hair clips.

“You seem to have counted on a later arrival?”

Margaery offered her a small smile as a hand went to her hair. “Pilates ran longer than anticipated. And I _did_ hit traffic on my way home.”

She led Sansa into the spacious living room that offered a gorgeous view of the local rose gardens of Highgarden.

“Why don’t you take a seat and have a drink,” she gestured to the opened bottle that stood in the cooler on the couch table. “I promise that I will only be a minute longer.”

Sansa sank down on the soft couch and crossed her legs. “What is another minute in the six weeks we’ve been trying to make this happen.”

After another quick kiss against her lips Margaery hurried off into the direction where Sansa suspected her bedroom, leaving Sansa to sigh and pour her self a glass of wine that was a bit too sweet for her taste. Soft music started blasting from the other end of the apartment as Sansa took a first proper look around.

The place was not what she’d expected, not what she’d assumed from the few video calls where she’d gotten a glimpse of it in the background. While it was exactly Margaery, at the same time it was not what she’d imagined the place to look like at all. She’d seen the clean lines, the pale colours of the furniture and walls, had expected something a lot colder going from that. But in the reality so many details spoke for Margaery’s warmth, from the pillows, to the curtains, the green potted plants that lined along the large windows, and all throughout the place really.

And the multiple pictures. Almost on every free spot, on the wall, or on shelves there were pictures. Not art though, albeit looking at them in the first instance she had thought them to be art photographs, only at a second she discovered that they were personal ones. Ones that showed her with her family, with friends, photos of Margaery on her own, and – Oh Gods – childhood pictures. Even those were not your regular snapshots, clear candids, but taken by, if not a professional photographer, then very least someone who understood a great deal of it.

One that sat on the shelf behind the couch opposite to her caught her attention so much that she stood up and picked it up, smiling slightly at the two brightly grinning kids that were sitting in a field with wild flowers, flashing tooth gaps up at the camera. Undoubtedly Margaery and Loras, both not much older than five or six, untameable curls on both their heads. It was absolutely adorable.

As she put it down again, her eyes landed on a different picture, one that had been facing in the different direction and was almost the complete opposite to the one she’d just looked at.

With raised eyebrow Sansa picked the frame up, not really sure at what she was looking here.

It was a black and white capture of Margaery, only … it wasn’t? Margaery sat on a stool there, elbows rested on her thighs and she stared into the distance with a slight hard look in her eyes, that matched really the whole attire perfectly. She was in a white tank top, a pair of jeans that clearly had seen better days, and something that looked like – combat boots? And still that was still not what had her mouth agape.

That would have to be attributed that the half of her hair was shaved off, shoulder long straightened hair, covering only the right side of her scalp. She looked… harsh, like a left-wing lesbian extremist, that bore little to no resemblance to the woman she’d gotten to know. The one who wore dresses on most occasions and did not seem to have had a bad hair day in her life.

Granted – she was not necessarily in this photograph either. Quite the opposite, just… different. Very different.

“Would you mind calling us a cab?” Margaery’s voice sounding from the bedroom had Sansa finally able to tear herself from the image.

With the frame still in hand she left her wine glass behind and walked towards where she’d assumed the bedroom, passing more and more pictures in the hallway, that she promised herself to take a good look at later.

She leaned in the doorframe then, taking in Margaery’s appearance where she sat at a big gorgeous vanity, as she loosened a strand of hair from the hold of a clip and teased the roots with tail comb.

“I can if you finally tell me where were going,” she returned, then raised her eyebrows. “And once you tell me the story behind this.”

Margaery’s eyes darted up from her own reflection and right to the picture Sansa was presenting to her. Was that the hint of a blush that appeared on her cheeks?

“Snooping around I see?”

“Carefully observing.”

“I might have had a rebellious phase in my second year at uni,” she explained at last, and her eyes focused back to the mirror with a slightly bashful smile. “Grandmother was most appalled by it, but for a good year it was leather pants, wife beaters, combat boots and shaving my head every morning. A friend took that picture one night after a concert.”

Seeing her here now, sitting in between stylish furniture, in a spacious room, at a glossy white vanity lined with a big variety of make-up appliances, perfumes and nail polishes, it was almost impossible to imagine that she even knew what combat boots were.

“I can see that look leaving you rather popular with the girls.”

“I suppose so?” Margaery shrugged, as she repeated the process just done with the next strand of hair. “If that was the case I didn’t notice. I was too hung up on one particular girl at the time.”

“You were?”

“Not my proudest moments,” Margaery said with a sigh. “Or particularly pleasant memories.”

Sansa saw something like melancholy dance over Margaery’s face, that had the strange effect of rising simultaneously genuine compassion and raging jealousy in her chest.

“She sounds like an idiot, if she didn’t want you at a time where you looked like _this_.”

Only a very small smile came to Margaery’s face. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

She didn’t sound like she believed her.

Sansa raised her brows, whoever or whatever they had done, clearly did a real number on her, when almost a decade later Margaery fucking Tyrell’s confidence was still affected by it.

For a moment Sansa kept studying her, feeling slightly caught when Margaery met her eyes through the mirror, a dazzling smile on her face.

“You know, I think the wow-effect I had intended will be significantly impaired if you watch the excruciating preparation that goes into it.”

Sansa smirked and bit her lip. “You assume opening the door wearing only a towel did not already have that effect?”

Eyes turned warning in the moment that Sansa took a first step into the room, leaving the picture on a side table, as her gaze stayed firmly on Margaery, who’s mouth opened as raised a hand in warning.

“No,” she said firmly, a hand clutching around the comb still in her hand. “We are going to dinner tonight. I had to call in a favour to get us that reservation the first place.”

Sansa slipped her heels off as she reached the fluffy light brown carpet that was placed over a light wood floor.

“Shame that all of that rebellious side of you has vanished.”

She stepped behind her, hands landing on bare shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze, as a head dropped back against her stomach.

“It’s called self-restraint?” Margaery breathed out, her voice just whiny enough to let Sansa know by what a thin thread said restraint was hanging on right now.

Almost thoughtfully, Sansa’s fingertips explored the soft skin of her collarbone, her cleavage, brushing along the top of her breasts that peeked out over the towel.

“Fuck self-restraint.”

She leaned over her right shoulder meeting lips that were smooth with freshly applied lipstick, sure to leave signs on her face. As she sunk onto the small space left on the bench Margaery was sitting on, her tongue sunk between her lips, as did her fingers in her hair.

“At the rate were going we’ll never make it to dinner,” Margaery sighed in between kisses, fingers finding and pulling at the zipper of Sansa’s dress.

“See it as skipping ahead to the inevitable.” Sansa withdrew for a second, allowing Margaery to pull the thin straps of her midi dress off her shoulders, leaving her topless in front of her. “Really if you think about it we’re being efficient. And saving money in the process.”

She went to her feet, letting the blue material of her dress pool at her feet, and held out a hand that Margaery gladly took.

“Avarice,” Margaery smirked and got to her feet, dropping the towel on the bench in the same moment. “Don’t you know how to turn a girl on.”

Sansa gave the hand in her own a gentle tug and pulled Margaery flash against her, their bodies molding against the other perfectly, as she crossed her arms over Margaery’s lower back.

“I do okay with that, I think.”

Lips met again in a passionate open mouthed kiss.

Still Margaery sighed as lips drifted down her neck, leaving a small line of bite marks as they moved along. “I was just really looking forward to dinner.”

Sansa spun them around to the bed, hands squeezing a toned ass and giving it a firm squeeze. “Are you actually complaining? Because I can just stop.”

Margaery’s eyebrows shot up. “Can you?”

Sansa gave her a gentle push so that she landed on the bed, pushing herself up on her elbows, watching with blown pupils as Sansa ridded herself of her panties, her features holding the same longing they had in their first night all those weeks ago, like she was got to see her naked for the very first time.

No, she was absolutely and utterly beyond stopping. This had been a sealed deal from the moment the image of rebellious Margaery had worked its way into her mind. Perhaps even before that.

She climbed on the bed, kneeling between spread legs that gave her a perfect view of how beyond stopping Margaery was. Her hair fell like a curtain around them when she leaned forward, bracing a hand on either side of Margaery.

“I don’t want to,” she clarified and saw a gorgeous chest fall and rise beneath her a little faster. “Not until every thought about that ex of yours is forever gone from your mind.”

Margaery smirked against lips that met her own.

“Do I hear jealousy there?”

Sansa settled on top of Margaery, smiling as her thigh met the wetness of Margaery’s centre, angling herself so that her own clit slid pleasurably against her leg.

“Let’s settle on bitterness,” she suggested. “That she got to have you when you looked like the bloody epitome of every gay girls fantasy.”

Margaery arched her back, her neck exposing itself to Sansa’s lips sucking on the side of it.

“Don’t leave a mark,” she demanded. “I can’t covering myself up like a horny teenager.”

Sansa forwent telling her that it was too late for that, gave the juncture of her neck a bite. The rocking against her picked up pace, she loved the way Margaery’s voice got just so husky with her growing pleasure, loved the way she was already barely able to keep her eyes open still.

“It is good to know that my rebellious phase was good for something,” she mused even in her growing arousal, hands sliding over the skin of Sansa’s back. “Perhaps I’ll get those combat boots out of storage one day.”

Sansa could not help the quiet groan that she breathed against Margaery’s skin at the thought of having her way with Margaery while she looked like _that_. Boots, leather pants, tank top – no bra. Already rubbing up against her with avidity she did not think that her lust could grow, but was disabused quickly.

“Would you like that, darling?” Nails drew over her back. “Pretending to hook up with the bad girl? Perhaps even while in one of your most serious work attires? I could have you up against the wall this time.”

Sansa smirked and shifted herself off of her. “What makes you think you would be the one doing the _having_?”

Fingers that dropped between smooth thighs dipped into unbelievable wetness, accented the words. She circled her clit with two fingers, watching Margaery’s eyes lose the fight against staying open at last. “You could be wearing a strap on and I’m still confident you would lose any aspiration to do any topping the second I get my hands on you.”

She silenced a possible objection with a kiss and by curling her fingers into her.

It was a struggle with her, constantly, from the very first moment and in the best way possible. Sansa had never been much of the passive part, left alone the couple of times she’d been with a woman. She enjoyed being and staying in control, only that delicious struggle for dominance that Margaery, equally stubborn and control obsessed, made it worth losing control from time to time

She smiled at the way Margaery’s heels dug themselves into the mattress, hips urging up to meet the well timed thrusts of her fingers.

“You’re becoming impatient again, Ms. Tyrell,” she breathed into her ear, feeling her shiver at it. “Whatever happened to self-restraint?”

“Fuck you,” Margaery pressed out through ground teeth.

Sansa smiled and rested her head on a folded up arm, almost as if she was lying down for a nap instead of finger fucking this beautiful woman besides her. For once she didn’t touch her, kiss her or tease her in any other way than the hand that worked itself into a frenzy between her legs, enjoying the sight of Margaery losing more and more control instead. She was almost sure that she was the only one with whom Margaery let herself fall quite like this. That was a sight limited to her own eyes and it affected her in a lot more ways than just the growing wetness between her own legs.

“I think I could fall in love with you.”

She had breathed the words with a particular hard thrust into her and in an almost comical way Margaery’s eyes shot open trying to find Sansa’s, while at the same time her orgasm rolled over her, and made her lose any control when she needed it the most.

Sansa smiled as she watched her back arch of expensive white sheets and a moan drowned out the soft music still playing in the background. She kept stroking Margaery through the aftershocks, waited patiently until panted breaths returned to a somewhat normal level.

The silence that followed as Margaery’s eyes blinked open again staring up at the ceiling made Sansa a lot more nervous than she’d anticipated when speaking her confession in the spur of the moment.

Only slowly Margaery’s face turned towards her and she felt unknow relief flood her at the soft lopsided smile.

“You’re timing sucks,” Margaery announced, still slightly laboured breathing, but also still smiling brightly.

She got some leverage and rolled herself on top of Sansa, her hair hanging and sticking off her head in a bloody mess, halfway still held up, halfway falling around her shoulders. With a smile Sansa pulled the two remaining clips that still held curls up from them and threw it to the side. They both laughed, when Margaery’s hair fell even messier from her head and Sansa had to burry her fingers in them to be able to even look at her. For a moment they smiled at each other like to absolute idiots.

“That’s all that you have to say?” Sansa challenged.

Margaery met her lips in a long and slow kiss, softly capturing her lower lip between hers, ever so briefly running her lips along it.

“I could say I have been from the moment I first saw you.”

Sansa smirked. “But that would be a lie.”

“A pretty big one,” Margaery admitted, still smiling broadly. “I thought you were beautiful, but so despicably arrogant. … And honestly I still don’t think I was completely wrong.”

Sansa urged her head up, meeting lips in a brief peck.

“That is not as much of an insult as you may think.”

A hand brushed over Sansa’s cheek. “It’s really your fortune that arrogance is such a splendid look on you, otherwise I would not put up with you.”

She raised her eyebrows at her. “I’d like to think that is not the only reason.”

“You are a pretty decent lay.”

“Decent?” Sansa exclaimed. “Be careful with insulting whom you want your next orgasms to come from.”

With a chuckle Margaery’s thumb brushed from her cheekbone to her lips, outlining them, allowing Sansa to kiss it, and for a moment then the smile vanished, and eyes grew in intensity as she inhaled a calming breath.

“ _Despite_ the fact that we have not made it on a single freaking date yet,” Margaery pressed the words out as if they truly annoyed her, “and have my doubts if we ever will… I’ve fallen for you so hard it’s embarrassing.”

The pull that appeared in Sansa’s stomach at the words was of an entirely different quality than usual.

 ...

 **Sansa Stark, 23:12**  
Pardon my language, but… where the fuck are you?

 **Margaery Tyrell, 23:14**  
Picking us up some take-out.  
Even if you are able to live on love, I’m not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon for the girl that broke Margaery's heart? Yara Greyjoy.  
> Headcanon for the girl Sansa lost her virginity to? Yara Greyjoy. 
> 
> I tried desperatley to fit that in, but couldn't so I thought I'd share it with you here.


	6. Epiloge

**Epiloge**

Sansa spotted her leaning at the bar counter, and crossed her way through the almost empty pub, until she reached her, slinging an arm around her waist and placing a kiss against her cheek. Margaery leaned into the touch and pulled her in closer, arms landing around her neck and kissing her properly.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she smiled against her lips. “I already saw myself dish washing in order to pay for our food.”

Sansa placed her purse on the counter and shook her head. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know? Who goes out to buy food and doesn’t bring money?”

Margaery gave a half shrug. “If my brain was not functioning, that is no one’s fault but yours.”

“Are you also blaming me on going out the door looking like this?”

She looked her up and down, a pair of leggings, a wide red hoodie over it, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, a pair of – she actually did a double take there – red Crocs on her feet. Not that her own appearance in loose cotton pants and a tank top was that much better, but at least she had settled on flip flops instead of fucking Crocs.

“I did not expect to be here longer than a couple of minutes,” Margaery returned unfazed and then waved the bartender over. “I’d be ready to pay now.”

He took the bill she held out to him. “Great, your food is also ready. Why don’t you take a seat, I’ll bring it over.”

Margaery blinked at him. “Sorry, but I asked for to go?!”

In just that moment a girl emerged from the kitchen two steaming plates in hand and the bartender threw her an exasperated look. “Guess, we’ll pack it up then.”

Sansa had watched the exchange silently, had been more than ready to slip back into bed with containers of food, cuddle up with her, but perhaps…

“Wait,” Sansa interjected. “Don’t. We’ll eat here.”

Brown eyes blinked at her in surprise as she spun around. “We will?”

Sansa nodded, as she took a brief look around and landed on a table by the window, to which she pointed the waitress. “Over there please?”

Margaery smiled up at her brightly. “Are you being spontaneous here? Who would have thought?”

Sansa closed her arms around her waist, pulling her against herself. “Even though this,” she tilted her head to the side, indicating to the kind of venue, “is certainly not what I would have chosen as a first date location, and we certainly do not look the occasion… I think it’s time that I finally take you out.”

The smile on Margaery’s face widened and her arms wound around her neck. “That is too sweet of you.”

“I know,” Sansa playfully rolled her eyes. “You bring out the worst in me.”

She was rewarded with a soft kiss against her lips. Then mischievous eyes were looking at her... and Sansa just knew to brace herself.  

“Technically speaking,” Margaery pursed her lips, “I’m taking you out here, since I paid.”

Sansa chuckled, and instead of an answer met her in a deep kiss.

She’d been right that first night. This was bloody exhausting.

And she would not have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this little tale :)  
> It took me a bit longer here to get properly into Sansa's POV in this specific realm so I'd love to hear your thoughts on that.  
> Likewise, feel free to shot me any prompts, you wish to see in this series. It might take me a while, but I do try to make them possible.


End file.
